


Encounters

by Solziv



Series: Catalyst [5]
Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Breakups, Brotherly Love, Catalyst - Freeform, Dark Eco, Dark Jak is painful, Desert, Eco, F/M, Falling In Love, Fear of Death, Fluff and Angst, Freedom League - Freeform, Friendship/Love, Haven, Haven City, Hora Quan, Humor, Krimzon Guard, Light Eco, Light Jak - Freeform, Longing, Love Triangles, Metal Heads, Monks, NYFE, Oracles, Ottsel Daxter, Ottsels, Precursor Monks, Precursors, Prequel, Racing, Rebels, Robots, Sequel, Sexual Humor, Spargus, Spargus City, Stadium, Suggested pairings, Teenage Drama, Wastelanders - Freeform, dark jak - Freeform, one-sided affection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solziv/pseuds/Solziv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jak II/Jak 3. Prequel to “Catalyst”. Taryn never intended to pay Jak much attention, but one eventful meeting in the Hip Hog would change all that. Multi-chapter. ~ CATALYST ~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just going to be a one-shot and not related to Catalyst at all. I’m glad I changed it, since it gave me the chance to write more Taryn/Jak romance, although this particular fic will feature her one-sided admiration.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing Krew and angsty Jak in this chapter – as well as Daxter’s extravagant story. XD

The muted lighting, wall-to-wall trophies and hanging paintings gave _The Hip Hog Heaven Saloon_ an appealing décor that should have had a relaxing effect on Taryn, as she entered, but it was knowing what awaited her within that made her uneasy. Being gawked at by the regulars was only second to speaking with the proprietor.

Circumstance brought her here; if she hadn’t needed money so desperately, it was unlikely she would have bothered in the first place.

The crime boss himself floated around on his strange contraption, fanning himself – his hand and mouth were likely the only muscles he ever exercised. When his one working eye set upon the sixteen year old girl, a leer crossed his features.

“Well, well! If it isn’t my favourite femme fatale!”

“Hey, Krew. What’s new?” she enquired, forcing herself to ignore any irritation he caused. The best way to deal with man such as he was through humour and nonchalance. He didn’t give a _rat’s ass_ , and others who didn’t held appeal for him.

“Let me see what I can get you,” he chuckled, understanding her request and flying away. It mercifully allowed her to saunter towards the back of the room. Only her close friend and sister-in-spirit Tess stood at the bar, cleaning glasses with a small cloth.

“Hiya, Bloo!” the blonde beamed. Taryn gave a wave in return, settling onto one of the stools. “I haven’t seen you around for some time. Why don’t you visit me more often?”

“Gee, I wonder,” came the blue-haired teen’s sarcastic reply. “If it really bothers you that much, I suppose I could spare some more time to see how you are.”

“How sweet of you.” Tess cheekily poked a tongue out of her closed mouth. “By the way, Jinx was in here earlier, looking for you.”

Taryn raised an eyebrow. “Is he still trying to fix me up with Mog?”

“Oh, my gosh! _No_! He’s looking for a partner, actually.”

“Either to help him blow stuff up or sleep with. Maybe both.”

“He knows you’re off-limits.”

“Only because it’d be like kissing a cousin if he tried.”

“He swears it’s for a mission. Anyway, it’s too late now. He’s already got someone.”

“I’m sure they’re very happy together.”

The blonde giggled, in spite of herself. “You’re on _form_ today. Who’s the lucky guy?”

Taryn grinned at her friend’s buoyant disposition. “I’ll never tell.”

Their laughter was interrupted by an exuberant and loud, masculine voice filling the air. The sixteen year old cringed and spun on her seat to face the noise. Her mouth dropped open at the owner – Fuzzball, Cowboy, Rodent; there were a number of names she called him.

But that was not the lone reason she looked surprised.

The man on whose shoulder the Ottsel rose appeared in his late teens, fairly tall and lean, with golden blonde hair swept back from his face and hanging past his shoulders. Distinct racing goggles kept loose strands from his face. A blue, long-sleeved tunic covered his torso, armour on his left shoulder and tucked into his left glove, and a strange metal ring sat in the centre of his chest, held with three brown, leather straps. Beige trousers covered his legs, tied off at the knee with more leather, and were tucked into knee-high boots.

Yet what struck her the most were those large, cerulean optics frequently glancing between the orange rodent and the blue-haired adolescent.

_This was the one Torn mentioned,_ she realised. Being well-acquainted with the Underground and knew all its members, past and present, was partly why she became involved with eradicating the Metal Bug threat, as well as working for Krew. _But what’s the newbie’s name?_ She simply couldn’t remember. _Frustrating._

The demolition duo approached the bar, and the blonde male settled on a stool, whilst Daxter hopped onto the bar to get a better seat.

“Been a long time, Dollface,” Orange Lightning winked. His friend rolled their eyes at the cheesy chat-up lines and over-the-top flirtatious behaviour. Taryn flashed a smirk at the latter and managed to get a sliver of a smile in response.

“What brings you to this _fine_ establishment?” she smoothly asked and leant back, arms resting on the bar. She had directed the question at nobody in particular, although it was Daxter who answered. _Damn. I want to hear Blondie speak._

“Lookin’ for something to pass the time.”

“Same here. Nice to see you’ve upgraded from bug squashing.”

“Says the gal who _hired_ me on a number of occasions. Just couldn’t get enough of this perfect body, huh?”

Taryn raised an eyebrow. “Careful there, super stud; Tess might get jealous.”

“Oh, Bloo, I would _never_ ,” the bubbly barmaid giggled.

The Ottsel’s mouth broke into a wide beam of gleaming, white teeth. The blue-haired teen narrowed her eyes in his direction; having experienced her gun aimed at her face during their first meeting and _well aware_ that she possessed no qualms about using said weapon on him, he knew her glare was not an idle threat, so decided against thinking aloud.

Rather inclined to talk about another topic, she tilted her head at the silent male sat two stools down from her, and hoped her voice didn’t sound too eager. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Before the furball could respond, the blonde spoke. “It’s Jak.”

_Jak._ It sounded fitting to her ears. _Right. That was the name._

“And _you_ are?” There was a misplaced bitterness to his tone, yet she had seen and heard enough of that in Haven City to be unfazed.

“Taryn,” came her soft-spoken reply, green optics meeting his gaze. If he wanted to play _tough and moody_ , fine, but she wasn’t going to let him affect her – well, at least not allow him to _see_ it, anyway. His strange aura already told her he was different, although she had no idea how or why. Torn and the Shadow had hardly been informative about the blonde.

To his credit, Jak met her challenging stare, although his eyes actually softened a tad. A number of questions riddled his mind, the main one being “how do you know Daxter?”, although it seemed the kind of query that could get him into trouble with the girl; after all, he didn’t know her very well, and the women of Haven seemed to be tough-as-nails. _I’ll ask Dax later,_ he decided.

At that moment, almost as if feeling left out of the conversation, Krew floated above the quartet and greeted the two new arrivals with a hearty chuckle. “If it isn’t my favourite errand boys, mm?”

“Hey, there, big boy! How’s life treatin’ you?” Daxter enquired, to the usual chagrin of the crime boss. And, as usual, the question was ignored. Jak said nothing, simply looking upwards.

“So, what do you have for me?” Taryn chimed in, smirking at the gangster. _I’ve been here long enough for you to assign me some crap work by now._

Krew glanced in her direction and flashed a sickly-sweet smile, apparently unperturbed by her interruption. She forced herself to supress a shudder. He tossed the object in his hands – a gun upgrade – in her direction, which she caught with ease.

“Ooh, a shiny new toy,” she cooed. “What’s the catch?”

“Your favourite hang-out, my dear,” he responded.

That meant only one place – the Sewers.

_Oh, yay!_ she sarcastically thought. _No wonder he gave me the gun mod._

He continued with the mission briefing. “There are some Krimzon patrols down there getting far to near to a little black box stashed away. Move the box to the Bazaar, and one of my men will collect it.”

_Probably Grim._ She knew better than to ask about the contents of her delivery, instead nodding. “Can do.”

“Make sure the guards don’t see you with it, eh?” Then he added, “And no _peeking_! I know what you’re like.”

“I promise not to look this time.” She winked at him, then leisurely rose from her stool, flashing a mischievous smirk at the demolition duo. “Nice meeting you, Jak. See you around.”

From the bar, Tess chuckled to herself, shaking her head. She knew how Taryn could be. _Careful with_ that _one, ‘though, Bloo. You might get burned._

Krew fanned himself, admiring the retreating figure. Jak, too, stared after the blue-haired teen, fascinated. The women of Haven City were so different to the Old World – it fit with everything else here that felt weird and new. His mind briefly flitted to Keira, but he quickly tossed the thought aside. _She’s gone; no point lingering on old memories._

Noticing his companion’s lingering gaze, Daxter grinned, sitting on the bar. “So, whaddya think?”

Caught off-guard, the blonde’s reply emerged a tad too defensive. “What do I think about what?”

“Taryn, _stupid_. She’s a nice girl, huh?”

_Yeah, but I’m not about to admit it – especially to_ you _._ “How do you know her, Dax?” _You too, Tess._

“It was a couple months ago, back when I was _head_ exterminator – there was a golden glow to the sky, the area _littered_ with those nasty Metal Bugs-”

“Can you tell this story _without_ the drama?” Jak snapped.

“Without the…?” Daxter looked appalled. “How can you say that?”

“Easy – the way I just did.”

“Gah! Everyone’s a critic.”

“Oh, _please_ go on! _He_ may not want to know what happened, but _I_ do!” Tess called, leaning over the bar in eagerness, arms resting under her chest. It was enough excuse for Orange Lightning, and his story continued.

“The blue-haired beauty fought as hard as she could, but she was being surrounded. She needed _my_ help. So, I charged in, left and right, firing away at the biggest, _nastiest_ bugs you ever _saw_! Boom! Bang! _Splat_!” He performed the necessary motions along the bar, somehow making his story even more colourful. “I was just on the tail of the boss, when my gun gets knocked from my hands. Backed into a corner, I raised my fists, ready to slap ‘em around!” He leant closer to the barmaid. “I happen to be an _expert_ in martial arts.”

“Oh, _wow_!” she cried, clapping her hands together. Jak offered her a bemused glance from the corner of his eye, unsure of her sincerity.

“I battered them all within an inch of their lives! They took one look at my skills. One left over actually fled, but I wasn’t letting it get away that easy! I raised my gun, took aim…and _BLAM_! Metal Bug _everywhere_! Of course, Taryn ran to my side and congratulated me for my bravery.”

“You’re so amazing, Daxter!” Tess cooed. “How do you do it?”

“Ah, some secrets I’ll never tell,” Daxter smirked at her.

The blonde male resisted head-butting the bar top. _Brave_ was the last word to enter his mind. One particular day in Sandover, back when they were both eight years old, Daxter somehow managed to trap his head between railings, and began _screaming_ that the bars were constricting around his neck, that he would be strangled to death – although, to be fair, that was long before their battle against Gol and Maia Acheron. The Ottsel _had_ matured somewhat in the following years.

_Not by enough,_ Jak chuckled to himself. Deciding everyone in _The Hip Hog_ had heard enough amazing escapades, he opted to change the subject. “Tess?”

“Yes, hun?” she beamed. It amazed him how she managed to remain a sunbeam, even in the drab saloon and surrounding city.

“How do _you_ know Taryn?”

“We grew up together. She’s like a younger sister to me.”

His optics widened. “ _Younger_?”

“Only a year younger, but a year, all the same. So, I get to tell her what to do and offer advice.” She stuck out her tongue and snickered. “She absolutely _hates_ it when I go all _big sister_ on her, ‘though.”

He was too polite to enquire about her age, but his friend, sadly, was not.

“How old are ya?”

“Seventeen. That’s the same age as you boys, isn’t it?”

Daxter nodded, yet Jak was distracted by thoughts of Taryn’s age. She was sixteen, then. _The same age Keira would be now._ The blue hair and green eyes were also similar between the two girls – unnerving to the point that he no longer wished to ask any more questions about their red-clad acquaintance.

Instead, he rose from his stool and approached the gang lord. “Got any work for us?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Krew replied. “I have _just_ the thing!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Torn and the Kid, so this chapter was a treat. X3 The last line is something of a joke. ;)

Taryn lacked the vocabulary to accurately describe how depressing the Underground hideout was – including the journey through the Slums to get there. In terms of likeability, the den was sandwiched between _The Hip Hog_ and Sewers. At least the saloon has alcohol, allowing one to inebriate themselves to the point of amnesia.

The Shadow met her at the entrance; she idly wondered how his afro could fit between the bunk beds, then tossed the bizarre thought aside.

“What can I do for you this time?” she enquired. _Clean the hideout, fetch groceries, pin up flyers on the noticeboard…?_

“I need you to watch the Kid for a couple hours,” he said abruptly. Her brows must have risen sky-high, because he grumbled under his breath. “It is _imperative_ he doesn’t wander off on his own again. And there’s nobody else to do that right now.”

“Where is the little tyke?”

“Asleep in one of the beds, for now. I’d rather he woke up, so I could give a goodbye, but there just isn’t time.”

“I get it. Babysit the boy. Keep him preoccupied.”

“And his Crocadog.”

“I’m sorry?” She swallowed. “Did you say-?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Now, I must be going, so you’re in charge of this place, until either Torn or I get back.”

 _Torn? Oh, great._ Taryn was hardly the ex-Commander’s biggest fan, and vice versa. At best, they were diplomatic; at worst, gave one another the silent treatment. Her unorthodox methods and willingness to dive head-first into danger often rubbed the wrong way against his disciplined and rigid plans. _Old habits die hard,_ she supposed.

“Oh, and do be careful with the Crocadog,” Samos called behind him.

After being alone for several seconds, it sank in that she was actually in charge. _Of a boy and his pet. Babysitting._ It was the first time she had been left alone with the pair, and now felt unsure where to begin. Her line of work and circumstances meant little knowledge of children; she just hoped some sort of motherly instinct would kick in, as soon as the youngster awoke.

* * *

 

A small whimper startled Taryn from her reverie. She rose from her spot on the floor and advanced towards the sound. It was the Kid, shivering under his covers in fear, although it was unclear whether he had just woken from a nightmare or was frightened by his inability to see anyone nearby. Cautiously approaching, so as to not frighten him further, she offered a warm smile.

“Hey, there,” she said softly. “Taryn’s here to care for you.”

He peered behind his blanket and craned his head upwards to look at her, curious despite his fear. Reassured by her gentility, he crawled out. She seemed familiar, had seen her around the hideout; she often argued with the tattoo man at the big table, but generally seemed nice – she was certainly being kind to him at the moment. _Maybe she’s okay._ His big, blue eyes glanced at the exit, then back at her in silent question.

“Oh, the Shadow has gone on a trip for a little while. He’ll be back later,” she explained, as patiently as possible. _Kindness, patience, flattery._ That was her intent, although those very things hadn’t been offered by adults when she was the boy’s age.

Said male blinked at her, considering her words, then slowly nodded in understanding. She offered her hands to help him clamber down, but he insisted on doing it himself – almost treading on the tail of his green pet.

 _Serves the ‘dog right_. Taryn suppressed a chuckle, causing the creature to glare at her and let out a soft growl. “Oh, fine, I won’t mock you anymore.” She passed glances between the duo, attempting to conjure an activity everyone would enjoy. It took some time, before an idea manifested in her mind, and she sauntered over to a cupboard (which turned out to be more of a scruffily-painted wooden box fixed to the wall) and tugged open its door. “So, who’s hungry?”

The Crocadog prepared to protest again, when the scent of food wafted in the air. A curious whimper escaped, ears pricking up, and it gambolled along the bare flooring, settling its behind on the bare floor near her, remaining somewhat cautious of the blue-haired stranger.

Her eyes rolled at its behaviour. “I won’t bite,” she insisted, but the animal remained unsure and vocally proclaimed its discomfort, flattening both ears against its skull. It appeared to think she planned to trick it with a meal, then perform some sort of horrible experiment. _Stupid dog._ “Okay, I’ll make a deal. Play nice, and you get fed. If not, I’ll fetch Torn – and you don’t want _him_ telling you off, right?”

It appeared to understand, cocking its head to one side, an ear erect. The threat of the former KG Commander appeared to affect all manner of living things – even dangerous Crocadogs. That, and the ulterior motive of _food_ (dogs always seemed to think with their stomachs) convinced it to give a _ruff_ of agreement.

“Good doggie.” Taryn poured its meal into a dull red pet bowl found at the bottom of the cupboard. _Morgan_ was written in Precursor script along the rim. Upon its discovery, she wondered who or what it belonged to. _Maybe the bowl came with the Kid and his pet,_ came the sarcastic portion of her brain.

The boy’s mischievous green pet immediately tucked into its food, happily grunting as it did so. She wisely left it alone, instead turning to the little boy peering expectantly up at her. One tin was held up in each of her hands.

“There’s a choice tonight,” she remarked, with mock-joy. “Tomato or pea and ham soup. You want to pick what we get to eat?”

Unable to read the lettering on the cans, his optics danced uncertainly between the two, not knowing if she would be annoyed with his decision. After a minute of deliberation, his chubby forefinger poked the left one, which he _hoped_ wasn’t tomato.

“Pea and ham it is,” the teen announced. She dug into the cupboard to fetch a tin opener and tugged off the top with little effort, then went about pouring it into a saucepan. She left that for a moment, all the while keeping an eye on the gluttonous Crocadog, and gathered a couple of bowls and spoons – having trouble finding any small enough for the boy to hold.

Taryn held the pot over an already lit fire in the makeshift stove – a barrel, which served the dual purpose of heating the room and cooking food for the growing number of Underground agents.

Once the soup was warm enough, she poured out some for both of them and sat down next to the boy with their meals. She placed the bowl in front of him and handed over the smaller of the two spoons she held.

“You okay with that?” she asked, still reserved about caring for a child in the correct manner.

He watched the soup for a minute, allowing it to cool some more, before dipping in his spoon and shovelling it into his mouth. Several drops of ran down his chin. She cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner, and rushed over to grab some paper towels from atop one of the rickety shelves. She ripped off several sheets (probably far too many) and knelt down next to him, laying a couple over his lap.

“Hold still,” she commanded, holding up another piece to his face. He paused, looking up in slight confusion. Touching the paper to his mouth, she gently wiped away the errant liquid. “All better. You can continue eating, now.”

He did so, still making a mess, but thankfully a majority of the tomato soup landed on his make-do napkins. Food on his face was easy to clean; that on his dungarees was not. She then settled down to eat at a leisurely pace, ignoring the Crocadog begging at her feet for more food.

Once they had finished, Taryn cleared up the crockery and cutlery, gave the boy another wipe with tissue, then eyed the green mongrel, as it continued to whine.

“Oh, alright!” she grumbled. “I suppose you can have more. But try not to wolf it all down, or we’ll run out of pet food. And you are _not_ eating me.”

The animal gave another _ruff_ of understanding and happily wagged its tail, making a wooden beat, as it hit the bare flooring.

Having fixed up _another_ meal for it, she let out a slightly tired breath. _Babysitting is hard._ It was then her job to think of what they could do next…with no prior knowledge of what a little boy might like to do – within practicality limits, of course. _That means no jumping up and down on the beds. The Kid’ll throw up and Torn will be on my ass._ She grew up alongside Jinx, but felt he wasn’t a good yardstick.

A lightbulb emerged over her head. She recalled the stack of paper in a chest of drawers, along with pens, pencils and crayons. A quick look through the multitude of cabinets, and she let out an excited noise when locating what she sought. She pulled out a number of pieces of A4 and as many crayons as she could carry at once, then spread them across the floor in front of the youngster.

“Here,” the adolescent offered, hoping he liked her idea; she was at a loss for what else they could do. _I could read him a story…except there aren’t any books…although I could make one up._ “We can draw for a while. Do you like the sound of that?”

Fortunately, he eagerly nodded and instantly darted for the crayons, holding a blue in his left hand, and began scraping it across the paper, drawing erratic whorls all over. He then dropped it and picked up the purple, repeating the motions. Taryn was fascinated, wondering what his youthful eyes visualised.

As quickly as he had begun, he put the paper to one side and started another drawing, instead choosing the green and brown crayons. Leaning forward and poking his tongue out of the side of his mouth, his eyes narrowed, intensely focused on the task.

Although a mere mass of scribbles, she understood from colour alone what he attempted to create. “Oh, you’re drawing the Crocadog!”

He looked surprised, yet pleased, with her observational skills, then turned back to doodling. She was simply happy to observe him for a while, finding it strangely relaxing – as well as another new experience. Who knew arts and crafts with a child would be this interesting?

At his third drawing, the Kid stopped and stared at his babysitter. She frowned, not fully understanding, until he tapped the A4.

“You want _me_ to join in,” she realised, yet gave a shrug. “But I don’t know what to draw…” She wasn’t entirely convinced she _could_ draw anything elaborate; it wasn’t as if there had been much time to consider art as a career. Pondering for a second, she finally settled on something, and took the red crayon. His blue eyes studied the movement of her hands.

Taryn held up the finished picture for him – a Lightning Mole dancing along the paper. Having never seen such a creature before (not that he had really experienced much of _anything_ in his few years), he found it utterly captivating.

“You know, I have a tattoo of one on my ankle,” she revealed. Of course, that meant he _had_ to see, so she lifted up the leg of her trouser. The boy examined it for some time, then tilted his head to stare directly into her green optics. She smiled in response. “How about I draw _you_ a picture, now?”

The idea apparently held merit, his countenance lighting up and head frantically nodding, so she pulled out a fresh sheet. The pair leant over it, whilst she passed her delicate fingers over the crayons.

“How about a car?” she suggested. “You tell me what colours you want, and what you’d like it to look like.”

 _Ecstatic_ somehow didn’t fully paint the child’s excitement. He had never spent this much time drawing to his heart’s content. The _red girl_ was much more fun than the other grown-ups that cared for him – apart from Vin, whose maniacal movements were highly entertaining, almost like a cartoon brought to life.

Said girl settled down and waited for the youngster to pick out the colours he wanted – blue, yellow and purple – and rolled them over to her. He pointed at the former, so she took it and held it above the paper. Working together, she enquiring and he nodding or shaking his head, she began.

* * *

 

The burgundy-haired Commander had always been soft-footed, and now was no exception. He meandered through the entrance and past the bunk beds, heading for his favourite spot – the table, where he could plan and evaluate. The old adage appeared to be true – you could take him out of the Krimzon Guard, but not vice versa.

As he reached the central area of the hideout, his teal eyes widened.

Paper scattered across the floor, numerous crayons attempting escape, and a trio in the middle of it all. Taryn re-enacted a speeding car, much to the mirth of the Kid, and the Crocadog barked in joy at the animated movements, its tail thumping the floor.

Torn cleared his throat as an announcement of his presence, causing the teen to jolt upright, suddenly surprised by his return. Her laughter halted, smile fading, and she stared at him with slightly narrowed eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her behaviour, transforming her irritated expression into a scowl. The last thing she desired was his ridicule.

“When’s the Shadow coming back?” she enquired, trying to remain diplomatic.

The brunette shrugged. “Likely not for a while.”

She wanted to know why Kor hadn’t been available to babysit, then realised how incredibly ungrateful it sounded – particularly after the nice evening spent with the youngster. Instead of expressing such concerns, she chose to glance over at the boy, who gave an overly large yawn. “I think that means it’s bedtime for you.”

A sleepy little smile crossed his features, body wobbling, as he awkwardly held up one of his pictures to her.

“Is that…for me?” she asked, and received a nod in reply, so took it from his hands. It was his first doodle, the one covered in blue and purple whorls. “I’m touched. Thank you.” She carefully rolled it up and followed the Kid back to _his_ bed. He willingly accepted her help with climbing this time, and even allowed her to tuck him in. The Crocadog leapt up onto the foot of the bed, and circled several times, before curling up and sleeping next to its master.

“Goodnight.” It didn’t take long for the inseparable pair to fall asleep; she turned about and headed over to the central table, peering at what Torn was doing. The smirk on his face only deepened her frown. “What now?”

“Just weird seeing you like that. Never thought of you as the motherly type,” he teased.

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” she said, without humour. “So, what’s the next move?”

“You’re really _that_ interested?”

“Well, yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I only say that ‘cause you’ve never been _before_.”

 _Maybe that was before I got to know the Kid, the one people say could be the heir to Haven’s throne._ “I’m allowed,” she retorted, well aware it sounded childish, and even folded her arms for added effect.

“Right.”

“Oh, just shut up and tell me what you’re up to.”

“Fine.”

The only reason she could speak to him in that way was that one, she never really meant it – that was just their strange, back-and-forth – and two, she happened to be a useful asset to the Underground. Fairly recently, she had become a fully-fledged member, rather than a mere contact. The difference was clear, and he was grateful for her help and dedication to their cause – sudden as it may have been.

Yet Torn knew _exactly_ why she had done so, even without questioning her about it. Erol remained a sore subject and the idea of being anywhere near him still unsettled Taryn. In an effort to convince her to keep with the Shadow’s cause, they assigned her missions involving the dispatch of Metal Heads and gathering intel from Krew, instead of disrupting the Baron’s forces, which meant likely encountering the sociopathic red-head at some point.

“The newbies are out looking for the Seal pieces,” the former Guard elucidated. “We’ve already got the lens, gear and shard, which will show us the location of Mar’s tomb.” He glanced at the teen at his side. “The Shadow knows it better than I do.”

“How long will that take?” came her sombre response. The clock was ticking – only a matter of time before Praxis found and destroyed the Underground, and Metal Heads overwhelmed the city. _Damn it. I should be out there, too._

Torn recognised her expression. “That Shadow told you to keep an eye on the Kid. Far as I’m concerned, that’s an _order_. When he gets back, _then_ you can do something.”

There was little use arguing with that tenor. Taryn let out a puff of air and wandered over to one of the empty beds, laying upon it and stretching her long legs. Silence filled the hideout, allowing time to properly think.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about the knowledge that everyone’s lives were in the hands of a vengeful blonde and loud-mouthed rodent.

_Precursors help us…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so HARD to write! WHYYYYYYYYYY? *sob* I don’t suppose it made my job any easier to write three stories at once. My goodness…

How someone could confuse a yodel with a Metal Head was beyond even the Precursors’ understanding. Of course, it didn’t help that Taryn chose to do such a thing to none other than Haven City’s resident phobic electric head, Vin. What followed her entrance was his quivering body and a scowl plastered across his features.

“How many times have I told you _not_ to do that?” he complained, struggling to steady his hammering heart.

Her eyebrows rose in mock-surprise. “You wanted me to keep count?”

“Oh, I give up!” With a shake of the head, he turned back towards the console. She then approached, her feline optics studying the numerous monitors. Finding her a little distracting, he looked over his shoulder. “Why are you here?”

“You _called_ for me. Help? Someone with electrical expertise?” he reminded him.

Recollection flitted over his features. “Oh, right!”

Taryn rolled her eyes and muttered a curse under her breath. _Same old Vin._ He was a true eccentric at heart, a genius at his work – and terrible at everything else, it seemed.

“So, how have you been?” she enquired, before her mind registered the idea that he would most likely shoot into a tirade of rants concerning the sudden rise in Metal Head attacks.

“The Baron’s got me working overtime! I can’t keep up the pace all by _myself_!” he cried.

_Or he could whine about the Baron._ “Did you need a partner to help you pick up the slack?” she offered, mildly aware how much it sounded an insult. Indignant rage flashed in his eyes, yet she only found it comical, unable to help herself sniggering – although quickly muffled the sound with a gloved hand.

“Not funny!” he grumbled.

She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! Keep your suspenders on; I’m only teasing. Just tell me what you need done.”

With a huff, Vin let it go and stabbed a finger at the console to their right. “I was busy rerouting power to the new G-zone conduit, but there’s been an overload, and now the motherboard’s fried. I would’ve fixed it myself, but-”

“You just couldn’t wait for an excuse to see me again?” she jeered. He sighed and pulled down his goggles, hanging them at his throat, then pinched the bridge of his nose and gave his overworked optics a good rub. From those actions alone, the level of his fatigue was clear – he seriously needed a break. “Right, right. I’ll get on with it. You take five.” _Five years,_ she thought, but didn’t voice her concern – for both his health and mental state. He didn’t deal too well under pressure, and that was all the Baron did lately. It increased her hatred for Praxis tenfold. Why could he just leave Vin alone?

The foreman wandered away and slumped onto a wheelie chair in the corner, leaning against its back and closing his eyes. She observed for several seconds, then approached the console and set the bag of equipment onto the floor, then unzipped it and picked up a screwdriver. She unscrewed the panel to the console, tugged it off and took a peek inside. To the untrained eye, it looked nothing more than a tangle of wires, metal and LEDs, but she knew what she was doing, crawling inside and shining a torch to inspect its inner workings. The motherboard sat in the midst of it, the problem instantly apparent. With a huff, she wriggled out and removed an assortment of instruments, before heading back in and began detaching the burnt-out piece of metal and computer chips. Working quickly and cleanly, she sat back onto the floor and scanned its damaged surface – in other words, every square inch.

_Just how big a power surge did the Station have?_ Taryn looked over at the middle-aged male, practically asleep…but she needed his help right now. “Hey, Vin!”

He instantly bolted awake, onto his feet. “What? _What_?” The initial panic of an impending invasion subsided, and he realised the source of the noise – merely her voice. “Oh…”

“Relax,” she calmly responded, then held up the motherboard. “There’s no saving this one. I need a replacement. Where do you keep them?”

Wordlessly, he trotted off to a locker sat in the corner of the room and pulled out his keys, unlocking its door. He certainly was protective of the place, distrustful of _anyone_ going near the components to the consoles. Swiftly locating a motherboard, thanks to his almost OCD nature, he picked it out and rushed over to place it into the teen’s hands. She set the old one aside, then accepted the replacement and offered thanks, before continuing her task.

Vin returned to his chair and tried to get back to sleep, which didn’t take long, leaving the hive of activity unusually quiet, cold and mechanical – and, if she thought about it, lonely. In truth, she, Tess and Jinx were the ones who spent prolonged time in the place; others simply passing through. Kor and the Kid were mostly there, having been shuffled around the various, makeshift safe houses in the city, to prevent the Krimzon Guard recapturing the young boy in a surprise raid.

_Poor Kid._ Taryn wondered how he was doing lately, under the care of the other Underground members. _Does he miss me at all? I miss him._

Her attention was tugged towards the sudden activation of the Warp Gate, which led to the Strip Mine. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, body geared to defend herself.

That turned out to be unnecessary, as a pair of familiar faces sprang from the sphere of energy at the gate’s centre. The blonde teenager landed on his hands and knees, obviously fatigued, whilst the orange furball was not as lucky, falling flat on his face; they were both covered in mud, soot, bruises and some sort of wet one hoped was rain.

Without hesitation, Taryn stepped over, first picking Daxter off the floor. Jak was perfectly capable of picking himself up; he preferred to avoid contact these days. On his feet, the Ottsel wore a grimace and furiously dusted himself down, with little success.

At the ruckus, Vin rose again, immediately tugged the pair of goggles over his optics and stared at the newcomers. _Can’t a guy get some sleep?_ “Jak…Daxter…you’re finally back.”

“Hey,” the seventeen year old responded, voice devoid of anger. He understood from past experience what would otherwise happen.

“Those eggs aren’t a problem anymore?”

“All blown to bits!” Orange Lightning returned a half-hearted smile.

The electric head almost collapsed from relief, settling for a third time onto his wheelie chair. “Oh, good…”

Daxter trotted over to and stared admiringly at a pair of long legs clad in grey trousers – the remainder of Taryn’s body had retreated within the console to finish up her work. He was about to call out, when she emerged.

“All done,” she announced, earning a smile from the foreman in return. Once the panel was replaced and her equipment put away, she acknowledged the demolition duo. “Jak. Fuzzball. It’s a small world, after all.”

“Hey…” the loud-mouthed rodent complained at the moniker.

“What are you doing here?” the blonde enquired, unable to help his curious nature.

“Working,” the blue-haired beauty said simply, rising to her feet and stretching ever sinew of her cramped body. She noticed his cerulean optics studying her movements, like a stray cat or dog unable to determine if the person offering food and shelter is safe. “Nice to see you both back in one piece. Some of those Warp Gates can malfunction – your legs might end up the other side of the city-”

“Thanks for the _comfort_ ,” Daxter snapped, eyes narrowed at her teasing, but she flashed a mischievous smile his way, which was enough to distract him and turn on his charm. “So, you just _happened_ to be waitin’ for my _heroic_ return, my beautiful, little blue jellybean?”

“No. I am _not_ yours…or a jellybean, for that matter.”

“But you admit you’re _beautiful_?”

Taryn scowled, folding her arms, then faced the blonde. “Can’t you control him? With a tranquiliser, maybe?”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Jak retorted.

“Too late. He’s your friend, so it’s your responsibility.”

“Gee, I’m all out of tranquilisers _today_. Besides, I don’t want to spoil your little _reunion_.”

_Hmm, this one’s got teeth._ Taryn couldn’t help admiring his wit – amongst other things. It was also a little _interesting_ to see him wet. “Did you enjoy your day trip?”

“Oh, it was a barrel of _laughs_!” the Ottsel cut in. “First, we began by tripping out of the Warp Gate and falling flat on our faces in the dirt. We pick ourselves up and head along the platforms, shootin’ Metal Heads right an’ left. There are so many of the little buggers, that Jak runs outta _ammo_ – just when the big guys turn up and charge towards us!”

“How did you make it back here?” she asked, leaning on one hip. “How did you manage to _save the day_?

“You sound cynical…”

“Sorry. You want someone to be impressed, you call Tess.”

The blonde stifled a snigger, causing his best friend to glare with fierce indignance.

“Ah, I give up!” the latter cried, throwing his arms up in frustration.

As she laughed at the Ottsel, she noticed from the corner of a green eye that Jak wasn’t quite joining in the humour. Being covered in wounds likely was dampening his mood. Still, it appeared that wasn’t the sole cause of his ire.

There were a number of things capable of running people’s lives in Haven City, but only a few that would make anyone that angry. Torn was moody from years spent in the iron fist of the Baron, but had managed to break free. Years spent with the Underground had brought the former calm. During the first meeting between Taryn and Torn, about a year ago, he had barely been capable of giving her the time of day.

_So, what’s Jak’s problem?_ she wondered. She turned to said male. “How about you, Blondie?”

“ _Don’t_ call me that. It’s Jak,” he snapped. Considering that was the nickname Jinx used, the seventeen year old didn’t particularly want to think of him or associate Taryn with the cigar smoker. Much to the hero’s surprise, she lacked the fear present in most people’s faces – or, if attempting to hide their fright, in their eyes. He was _almost_ impressed by her reaction. “It wasn’t exactly paradise out there. And don’t get me started on the wet…”

“You don’t like to get wet?” she queried.

If Jak didn’t know better, he heard her voice suddenly soften and smooth. He stared at her, brow furrowed, attempting to decipher her meaning. It sounded like flirting, yet he wasn’t entirely convinced she was aware of doing so. Whatever the case, a particular part of him wanted and even enjoyed such attention.

He studied her more closely. Torn and the Shadow mentioned her in conversation, explained her role within the Underground as a loyal agent, performing various tasks for the pair and their contacts. Yet, according to those same two, she had been little more than a contact herself, up until fairly recently. Something had pushed her – and is was _big_ – although Jak didn’t know what. After all, they barely knew one another, especially not for him to ask a reason for her actions and behaviour.

There came a sudden need to break the overwhelming silence between them; even Daxter was quiet, far more interested in self-maintenance, wringing his tail and pulling at lumps of mud and matted fur, apathetic about their conversation. So, the blonde spoke.

“I had no idea you ran around for the Underground.”

“Well, now you do,” the blue-haired female said, followed by giving a lackadaisical shrug. “Someone has to do it.”

_And that someone just_ has _to be you._ “You mean their dirty work?”

“Mm-hmm. Same as you. I _unfortunately_ get the same treatment from our favourite tattooed boy. Still…it’s not all bad. Might seem like his personality’s up his ass, but his heart’s in the right place.”

Such contempt seemed to win the taciturn hero over, as they shared a chuckle. He even offered a rare smile. For the first time in her life, she felt the breath leave her body.

“Big fan, huh?” he jokingly suggested.

“He’s the _best_ ,” she retorted. “So happy, smiling, full of life…”

“A socialite.”

“ _Exactly_. A party isn’t good unless _he_ shows up.”

Daxter interrupted their mockery, apparently finished with the failed attempt of cleaning himself. “Can we go? I swear I’ve got mud ridin’ up my tail! At least, I _think_ it’s my tail…”

“Too. Much. Information,” Taryn grimaced.

“You don’t have him riding on your shoulder twenty four-seven,” Jak replied.

“True. Know that I feel your pain.” She had been about to pat his shoulder as a sign of comfort, when he subtly flinched from it. A slightly quizzical expression crossed her features, but it vanished a moment later. _What was_ that _about?_

“Comforting,” came his sarcastic response. He then cast a glance at his orange-furred friend. “Dax, let’s head out.”

The Ottsel hopped onto the blonde’s shoulder armour and flashed the girl a cheeky wink. “Catch ya later!”

“‘Bye,” she purred, giving them a wave. The males then headed out of the Power Station, also offering Vin a farewell, although the latter didn’t react, already caught up in his work again. The door shut behind the demolition duo, and she finally pulled her gaze away from them.

With a breath, she exchanged looks with the foreman. “Vin.” When said male didn’t turn at her call, she raised her voice. “VIN!”

“What? What?” He swung around and stared at her from behind his goggles.

“You never told me you had those two running errands for you.”

“It never came up in topic.”

“You know that doesn’t fly with me, right?”

“Okay, okay. I just haven’t gotten ‘round to mentioning it. Wasn’t sure it was a good idea for you to get too acquainted with them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sure, they’re good at the job, brave, loyal, courageous, but-”

“Please, _please_ get to the point.”

“Right, right,” Vin chuckled, nervously sweeping the back of his neck. “They’re wanted felons. The Baron’s on a manhunt for them. If you get caught up in it, well…I don’t want you caught and placed in a cell. You know what they do in those places, with the chains, torture, beatings-”

Taryn cut him off with a raise of her hand. “I get it. But you shouldn’t worry so much about me. I’ve never been caught, and I never will. I’m _never_ seeing the inside of that Hellhole.”

“Well, uh…um…” he trailed off. With a chuckle and shake of the head at his loss for words, she strolled back over to the repaired console, collecting her bag of equipment.

The demolition duo bothered her a little – especially the blonde. A flicker of something entirely different burnt through her system when he was in the room. It wasn’t just lust, but mingled with fascination – there had to be a _reason_ for his disposition. And that was what she couldn’t fathom. Beyond his looks, he didn’t really suit her; if anything, the rodent was more her speed. _So why was I flirting? Why am I so fascinated?_

Moths were drawn to flames, mistaking it for the light of the moon. _Am I seeing something else beneath his anger and mystery? Or am I making a mistake?_ It was all too confusing and, even after thinking it through, no answer came to mind. With a shrug, she decided to leave it…

…for now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done and dusted, at last!

“I’ve got a delivery job for you.”

Those were the very words Taryn dreaded to hear – from the gruff, ex-Commander, no less. Still, she intended to hear him out, since the mission was for the good of the Underground (and, by extension, the city), meaning another step towards freeing Haven from the grip of an egomaniac. So, she plastered on her most patient smile and stared him straight in his teal eyes.

“Do tell,” she said.

“That depends on how ready you are,” Torn responded.

_Well, if that’s isn’t cryptic…_ “For what?”

“To head over to the Stadium.”

Upon hearing that, she froze, her mind turning it over, although she already knew the answer. He grumbled upon receiving a shake of the head, but didn’t push her.

“When do you think it’ll pass?” He sounded genuinely curious, and she gave a quizzical expression that was likely far less honest than it appeared, so he clarified. “Your fear of that place. Racing. Erol.”

“It’s not _racing_ , it’s…that track…” she corrected him, then followed up with a helpless answer. “I don’t know…”

“Whatever it is, you’re obviously still not ready. However, you’re going on the other deliveries,” he simply stated, pointing to a satchel of packages sat on the table. “Take these to their designated destinations.” Then he handed over a list. “Here.”

Upon skimming her optics across the piece of paper, she attempted some levity. “Onin’s hut? Is one of the packages bird seed for Pecker?”

He gave a rough chuckle. “Likely.” With a nod of the head towards the exit, without even looking at the blue-haired teen, he added, “Get going.”

“Keep your pants on; I’m going!” she sighed, rolling her eyes, then turned on her heels for the door, and muttered under her breath, “Have fun at your loner party.”

* * *

 

The original building of the _Kridder Ridder Extermination Company_ was blown up by a Metal Bug in disguise, Kaeden, roughly six months prior, but it had since been rebuilt, just as it was. It was a relief to know that; not only were Osmo and Ximon great informants for the Underground, but they happened to be good at their jobs – particularly the latter, who rivalled Taryn in rebuilding mechanics and reworking electronics. However, the blonde’s carefree nature meant he really wasn’t all that keen on doing such work, especially for his father.

Upon entering the building, the first thing the sixteen year old noticed was the new layout of the interior. She hadn’t visited since the ending of the Metal Bug invasion, back when Daxter worked as an exterminator. That had been their first meeting, at the construction site, where she flippantly discredited him as a waste of space.

But he proved her wrong; that much she was willing to admit. And now he was a reliable friend, one of the few in Haven City she could trust. The only trouble with thinking about the orange rodent was how it led her back to his angry comrade. She didn’t want that at the moment.

Fortunately, her train of thought was interrupted by Osmo’s sudden appearance. His already friendly smile broadened at seeing a familiar face and he trotted along at a quicker pace to properly greet her. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise! It’s been quite some time since we last saw you.”

“You can say that again. It’s good to see you, too,” she chuckled, her voice raised to compensate for his poor hearing, then glanced around. “Is it just you today?”

“‘Fraid so,” he replied, a tad disheartened. “Although my son should be back within the hour.”

“That’s a shame. Still…it’s not a total loss. I _do_ have a present for you.” She removed a package from her shoulder bag and handed it over to the old man, who took it into his large hands.

“Thanks. You’re a dear,” he said, offering a beaming grin as thanks.

She shrugged. “Happy to help.”

At that moment, the door slid open, and in stepped Ximon. Taryn’s body swung around and she gazed at him, a smirk spreading across her lips. He appeared overjoyed to see her.

“Long time no see, Dudette!” he called in his lazy, surfer drool.

“Same. I’m delivering a package for your father,” she explained, pointing towards Osmo.

“Does that mean you’re only here on business? Bummer.”

“Unfortunately, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little catch-up with you two. Also, while I’m here, anything need a tune-up?” She leant towards Ximon a little and spoke in a lower register, so the old man couldn’t hear. “I know you don’t like doing it. How about Ol’ Betsy?”

“Well, uh, I hate to say this, but Betsy kinda kicked the bucket recently,” the blonde responded. “Dad’s a little bummed out about the whole thing. Maybe not a great idea to say it too loud, ya know.”

“Oh. Damn. If you need a replacement-”

“We know who to call, but thanks.”

Taryn had almost forgotten just how much she enjoyed their company. Ximon really was a sunbeam in human form, she thought, not fitting the dirty, dystopian burg at all. _How does he keep so happy in this place? I could do with some lessons…_

“You need to get on with the other deliveries? Or can you stay a while?” he continued.

“There’s no rush,” she returned. _Torn didn’t give me a time limit. Besides, the grumpy bastard can wait a little longer._

“Awesome! We can talk, while my old man works. I’ve got a _killer_ new car to show you in our garage…”

“Sure,” she agreed, following him out of the entrance and towards the mini Warp Gate in the back room of the building.

* * *

 

Situated in the Slums, Onin’s hut was an oft-visited location for those seeking fortunes, treasure or just wanted their palms read, but it was mainly the Green Sage who visited the soothsayer. His interest in her abilities and knowledge of the Old World’s ways meant he was constantly in her and Pecker’s presence. The Monkaw found it somewhat of an annoyance – making it one of Samos’ few redeeming qualities for Daxter.

The tent’s interior consisted of claustrophobic, dingy walls, on which hung colourful tapestries – one, Pecker claimed, that belonged to one of his flocks and was offered as a gift to him almost fifty years ago. The air filled with the scent of sandalwood and florals Taryn couldn’t name. She took a deep breath and inhaled the scent, enjoyed the change from petrol, dirt and stale air.

The large bowl, covered in ornate Precursor writing, sat atop Onin’s head, and archaic jewellery of unknown origin adorned her wrists, ankles and throat. She waved patters in the air, pale blue energy dancing around her fingertips. The Monkaw sat in the bowl, deciphering the mystic’s words. Taryn struggled to focus on the voice, distracted by the glowing patterns, but she got the gist of the conversation.

“Onin thanks you,” the winged hybrid finished.

“Oh…you’re welcome,” the sixteen year old said in an overpolite manner, feeling a tad overwhelmed. Anything related to Precursors, relics and the Old World paradoxically both fascinated and unnerved her, so she wasn’t sure what to do with herself in the presence of the old woman.

The soothsayer suddenly stilled and, mouth open, tilted her head upwards towards the roof of the hut. Taryn exchanged a bemused and slightly nervous glance with Pecker, but he merely responded with a shrug and held a little tighter onto his perch.

Fortunately for everyone’s heartbeats, the mystic lowered her head and began waving her fingers in a complex manner, although it was still mere child’s play for the Monkaw to translate.

“It is a vision…of the future,” he casually announced, as if it was the most ordinary memo in the world to receive.

In turn, Taryn had no response to give, but “Uh- _huh_.” It wasn’t that she did or didn’t believe in Onin’s predictions, but the former preferred to rely on the grounded reality of working for the Underground to depose the Baron. Fulfilling a grand quest wasn’t high on the list of priorities.

At least, it wasn’t, until Pecker spoke once more.

“It is of _your_ future.” Expression just as fascinatingly bewildered, Pecker focused his mind on deciphering what his associate had seen. “But…it is so blurred…clouded with uncertainty…”

_First they tease me, now_ this _?_ “Are you two making fun of me?” she asked defensively, folding her arms and leaning on one hip, her mouth forming a pout. The disposition was full of far too much attitude, but she felt it was necessary.

“Like I would retort to that! So _hokey_! I have much better ways to humiliate you!” he retorted, practically ruffling his colourful feathers in indignance. The teen blinked hard and dropped her arms, at a loss for what to make of the situation abruptly thrown her way. Still, curiosity pushed her back into enquiring about what the soothsayer had seen – if anything.

“What was the vision of? Could you actually make something out?” she asked, fighting to keep the insistence from her tenor.

“It is a…small person…perhaps from a distance? Their age is unclear…although they seem to be male,” Pecker responded, knowing that the blue-haired girl was already hooked. “But I am afraid that is as distinct as it appears at present.”

Taryn allowed her shoulders to slump, feeling defeated. Her future had always consisted of uncertainty, even when she was little, so her brain did a complete U-turn regarding things that could change where she finally ended up in the world. But it was apparently still hopeless. _The person could be anyone. Just forget about it._

“Alright,” she remarked, resigning herself to not knowing. “Anyway…you’re welcome for the package…I should get going…”

“Hmm…farewell,” the Monkaw said, offering a wave of his feathered fingers, but he clearly remained distracted by what Onin had seen.

And the teen left, heading back towards the hideout, feeling a tad lost.

* * *

 

Taryn traversed a route that ran towards the Stadium – it was unclear why she chose it; perhaps her mind was still caught up in the idea of her future and her body was going the path of old memories – and slowed her steps upon realising she now stood before its entrance. Green optics stared into the long path that led towards the Garage and tracks. Her chest immediately tightened, gripping one hand with the other to fight off the shakes that had suddenly risen in her body.

_It’s all wrong! I should be_ over _this!_ she mentally screamed, but it did no good. The sensation remained; if anything, it intensified – the last thing she needed. On top of worrying about the vision, she didn’t need to add a painful racing experience. She gasped slowly and deliberately, fighting off the potential panic attack, and slowly regained enough presence to turn away from the building and stagger down the steps – almost losing her footing twice.

_I’m sorry. I can’t do it, yet._ She detested the way the place made her feel, and who she thought of. Erol had done so many cruel things, but this particular feat was personal. _I’m still just a coward, Tess._

Taryn completely lost her nerve. Hitting the bottom of the steps, after what felt like a lifetime, she fled across the pavement, dizzy, disorientated and fighting to breathe.

_Tess._ The only woman who could help now.

_Please be at the Hip Hog. Please._

* * *

 

Alarm scattered across the blonde’s countenance at the appearance of her friend; it wasn’t like the latter to keep such a silly promise to visit _The Hip Hog_ more often, yet what more worried Tess was the weird expression on Taryn’s face. Something was very wrong.

_I think I can guess,_ the typically bubbly barmaid thought, so moved away from the bar, managed to convince a co-worker to cover her shift, and hurried over to assist the sixteen year old. “Come on; there’s a room in the back we can talk.”

“Thanks,” Taryn somehow managed to squeak, before the blonde gripped the former’s shoulders and led the younger girl away from the main bar and through a door that led into the back. Tess closed the door behind them, then offered a seat on a wooden bench against the wall. The blue-haired girl flopped down, exhausted from mild hysteria, and pressed her face into her hands.

“No, no…lean your head right over and calm down,” came the other female’s order, even going as far as pushing Taryn’s head down between her legs. The latter focused all her strength on breathing regularly and unclogging her dizzy brain. All too soon, the disorientation faded, and she slowly raised her head.

“Talk to me,” Tess said firmly, yet gently enough so as to not place more pressure on her friend.

“I-I went to the Stadium just now,” the sixteen year old spoke hurriedly. She felt ashamed and couldn’t keep eye contact, so buried her face back into her hands, but the blonde pulled them off.

“Nuh-uh. We’re going to do this _properly_.”

_Uh-oh._ When Tess was in her “big sister” mode, that meant Taryn couldn’t hide. It was an entertaining notion; in spite of herself, the latter let out a nervous chuckle

“That’s more like it! So, what made you go there? Why now?”

“I have no idea…I suppose I just passed by and it was _there_. I just…I wanted to _try_ …”

“And it got too much, I take it?”

“I couldn’t even get through the entrance.”

“Nobody’s telling you when to push past this. You’ll do it when _you’re_ ready.”

“What if I’m _never_ ready?” the younger girl almost shouted, tempted to rise to her feet and flip tables or tear up the room. Yet she didn’t, thankfully, simply sitting and watching the blonde’s face for some desperately needed answers. However, before she could even think to continue moping and ranting, Tess pitched forward, capturing the blue-haired teen in an awkward, one-armed hug.

“You’ll regain your strength one day.” The barmaid spoke gently, although it was with an air of determination. Whenever one of her allies fell down, it was her job to help them back up; always had been.

“I hope so,” Taryn mumbled.

The blonde removed herself and leant back, stood directly in front of the sixteen year old. “Keep hoping and it’ll happen.”

She wouldn’t realise until later just how much Taryn would take those words to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo…Onin had a vision of Taryn. I hope you have fun guessing what it refers to. 8)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These events are briefly mentioned in chapter twelve of Catalyst, but I thought it would be good fun to write said events in detail. That being said, this really didn’t want to behave…

For the past week and a half, Torn insisted on having Taryn continue delivering packages to the numerous Underground agents throughout the city. However, she saw it only as keeping her from performing legitimate missions. It infuriated her most of the time and she couldn’t help wondering if it meant Praxis was upping his game.

The teen’s current delivery had her traversing the Water Slums, in which she managed to avoid the prying eyes of the Krimzon Guard. Child’s play, as far as she was concerned.

Or it would have been, if not for a familiar flash of yellow and blue from afar catching her attention on the way to her predesignated destination.

It had been a good fortnight since seeing them. The small voice in her head told her it was far too long, which she grumpily pushed aside, insisting on focusing on the mission. Yet curiosity forced her to remain. She darted behind the nearest building and peeked from behind a wall to observe.

_What are they doing here?_ Taryn hadn’t heard anything new from Torn – not that the latter would sociable enough as to share the business of other agents; nor did it really concern her, as he so often stated.

Jak collected a piece of curved, bronze-coloured metal – likely of Precursor origin, she surmised – and turned on his heel, planning to leave the area as quickly as possible.

Although that was not to happen.

Footsteps and roars of HellCat engines announced the arrival of dozens of Krimzon Guards arriving with the sole purpose of apprehending the criminal pair. Unable to fight the rising anger upon seeing that red armour, the blonde tensed his body and relinquished control to the Dark Eco bubbling in his veins. It rose to the surface, bleaching his skin and hair to sickly lilac. Black spread outward from his pupils like ink and horns ripped from his skull, forcing a painful, unnatural scream that set Taryn’s teeth on edge. The sight of such a transformation and bleak aura emitted from the creature that once was an innocent boy sent a violet shiver from her spine, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from it. Aside from the fear, she felt morbid fascination, and anger at the soldiers who had forced Jak’s hand.

The Krimzon Guard had made a big mistake this day.

His natural ability augmented by the Eco, the seventeen year old darted across the walkway, then leapt straight towards one soldier and sank black claws between a gap in the armour, straight into the man’s neck. Rifle shots missed their mark, as Jak flipped his entire body around, his hand grasping another enemy’s helmet. Manipulating the darkness within to augment his strength, the blonde squeezed harder than necessary…until there was nothing left to give. Released, the limp body flopped onto the wooden platform.

It was pure insanity, the very moment the blue-haired girl should have turned from the mindless violence and run away, fighting tears and screams…but she simply couldn’t. It had to be seen, regardless of the reason why. Perhaps it was her insistence to confirm a niggling feeling from her first meeting with the mysterious outlaw, that feeling anything for him was unwise. Yet all she knew was that the truth brought only more fascination.

The aftermath of such slaughter considerably weakened Jak; he collapsed onto his hands and knees on the walkway, uncontrollably wheezing for breath and whimpering, as the Dark Eco receded to its place, deep within his heart. He was accompanied throughout by the anxious reassurance of his orange companion, begging for answers to questions regarding the former’s health.

Taryn finally spun her body around and sat down, back resting against the wall of the building, her mind struggling to comprehend what she saw.

_Monster…_ The word almost fell from her lips. _I should have known._ Behind those big, blue optics and quiet demeanour lay a dangerous creature. _I really pick them, don’t I? First Erol, now Jak…_

She quickly amended that thought. _But those two aren’t the same._ The Commander knowingly hurt people, whilst the blonde was acting out of self-defence. Both could kill, but for different reasons. So why did it feel like she was making excuses? _Do I just not want Jak to be evil, too?_ A shake of the head followed. _No. They_ are _different._

She also wanted to understand why the Shadow would risk using anyone like that, even against the Metal Heads and Baron Praxis’ forces. Yes, it was war, but there had to be another way, one that didn’t involve juggling the lives of innocent people.

_I’m so confused…_

There was no choice but to voice her concerns to the Underground about it. Were they even _aware_ of what animal lurked within their rebellious organisation?

However, before that could happen, she needed to complete her delivery. Then she could give Samos and Torn a piece of her mind.

* * *

 

An adolescent storming into the hideout was the first indication that something was amiss. Having rarely seen the blue-haired girl’s temper, it initially startled the Shadow and Torn from their work – planning their next move.

She approached, stopping at the opposite side of the table and glaring at them, almost roaring, “What is he?”

“What are you _talking_ about?” the twenty eight year old demanded, feeling his anger rise at the vague query.

Samos, however, knew how to calm the most agitated of people, and reacted logically, answering her desperate questions. “I take it you are referring to Jak.”

“Damn right I am!” she snapped. “You took him on, _knowing_ what he turns into? He might mean well, but letting someone like that loose for the _cause_ …? You didn’t think it might be a good idea to tell me? What the Hell were you thinking?”

The elderly leader said nothing to defend himself, so the brunette chose to instead. “That’s enough, Taryn!”

“Oh, shut up, Tattoos! Like you weren’t _part_ of the Baron’s work!”

“Not anymore!”

The Green Sage listened to every word thrown back and forth between the pair, allowing it to go on for some time…until enough was enough. The last thing needed now were allies tearing themselves apart over the matter. He suddenly spoke in an authoritative, deep tenor, halting the argument. “Jak is the lone survivor of the Dark Maker Programme – the Baron’s sickening idea of turning humans into super soldiers.”

Torn already knew that much from reports – mostly thanks to his Guard connection – but it was all new to Taryn. She froze, shaken to the core.

After taking a minute to recover her mental capacity, she turned the fact over in her mind. Nobody should have been able to survive Dark Eco treatments, let alone be up and about, walking, talking and fighting Metal Heads. In an attempt to make sense of it all, she passed a hand across her forehead, then looked at the leader with a questioning shimmer in her eyes. Her mouth opened to enquire, but nothing emerged.

Samos spoke instead. “He is a channeller unlike anything I have ever seen. It seems Onin was right about him.”

“But…channellers don’t exist anymore. They all died years ago. He’s too young to be able to do it.”

“I have witnessed his abilities.”

“Witnessed it…” Taryn muttered. If that looked anything like what she had seen earlier, she wondered how the Shadow survived. And, the more she considered it to be true, the more she realised how crazy everything was in this city. _Samos has no angle, no need to lie for Jak’s sake. So why am I having such a hard time believing it?_ She clenched her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting an impending migraine.

Believing in superheroes such as Mar was a child’s fantasy that once helped her sleep at night in the orphanage. But now she was practically an adult, living in the reality of it all. _I can’t go back to that naivety. I can’t believe in a magic man who can make anything happen._

And the matter remained that, beneath all those feats and power, Jak was nothing more than another tragic human of their dystopic time. In that, she felt sympathy for him. The people of Haven raised him on a pedestal, expecting him to save the world; they would quickly turn and cast the blame on him if he didn’t.

Who could expect one person to do that much? _It isn’t fair._

Taryn found it had become a little hard to breathe. She gave the pair of males one last look, before rushing out of the hideout and back into the cool air.

_I need a drink._

* * *

 

The glass turned in circles on the table top, but she didn’t drink from it. In a quiet corner booth of _The Hip Hog_ , she blotted out the sounds of music, someone playing the Whack-A-Metal game and general chatter. A typical day consisted of spending time with Tess, listening to any interesting tidbits of information – after all, even Krimzon Guards spent their days off in bars; the more they drank, the looser their lips – but Taryn had little interest in anything but contemplating what she learnt earlier.

Or she planned to, until Haven’s star pyromaniac decided to slump into the opposing seat. He wasn’t the blonde she wished to see right now, but was stuck with, so gave him a gruff greeting. He immediately noticed something was wrong, although didn’t outright pry, instead joking around to cheer her sullen mood. It usually worked.

“What’s up, Tarry? Yer quieter than that night I accidentally burst in on you in the bathroom,” he joshed.

Her head rose and optics flared with anger, furious that he had brought up that embarrassing moment. _Again_. Still, at least she began to talk. “What do you want, Bomb Brain?”

“You haven’t called me that in a _long_ while. Must be a bad day.”

“Jinx…just go away this once. Please?”

“Aw, you know I can’t say ‘no’ to those begging eyes.”

“ _Jinx_ ,” she growled through clenched teeth. “Not tonight.”

“You say that every time, Sweetheart,” he grinned, flicking the top of his lighter to fire up a fresh cigar. Her shoulders slumped and she realised, as always, there was no way to win.

“I’m fine, you ass,” she insisted. “Just want to be alone for a while, that’s all.”

“Somethin’ happen?” he asked, his voice less coarse, replaced with curiosity. Despite his demeanour and never actually declaring it outright, he did care about her, even going as far as longing; teasing was merely a game between the two, which they both knew wasn’t serious.

Taryn realised at that moment she couldn’t entirely contain her thoughts. “Yes.”

Her hesitation to continue made Jinx impatiently shift in his seat. “Either tell me or _don’t_. Pick one.”

“Okay.” She puffed, swallowed a sip of drink, then looked into his soft, green eyes. “I saw Jak _change_ …”

The pyrotechnician swallowed, knowing what she referred to. He had heard the rumours of a dark monster, a victim of the Baron’s cruel experiments – but was never quite sure whether it was true or not. Well, now her words confirmed it. He suddenly felt protective; her safety mattered…for reasons more than mere brotherly concern, he understood with a shred of regret.

“Did he hurt you?” he said softly, and was relieved by her shake of the head.

“I was at a distance,” she explained. “He tore those KG apart…made it look so easy…”

Before he could even think about what he was doing, Jinx reached out his hand and touched her forearm – a tender action that she accepted as brotherly concern. He had no idea if she knew how he felt about her, never giving anything away. Yet that didn’t matter right now, he decided. She looked into his eyes and gave a rare, grateful, soft smile. Reluctantly, he then removed his hand and returned it to pulling the cigar from his mouth and shaking a few ashes into the nearby tray.

He felt something should have been said, but he was never that good with words. Still, he didn’t have to speak; she beat him to it and completely brushed off the tense, emotional situation with some well-timed humour.

“Now that I’ve told you, will you go away?” she asked.

“Sure, sure,” he snickered, rising from the chair and setting his sights on the bar.

She started over with her pondering of Jak and Eco. She swept both gloved hands over loose locks of her hair and stared once more at her beverage. Having calmed down since her rant in the hideout, she could look at things clearer. The Shadow’s words made more sense, and Vin’s warning about getting too acquainted with the demolition duo seemed to pertain more to the confirmed rumour of Jak’s transformation than their criminal status.

_I need to help, not be afraid,_ Taryn thought, with some determination. Fear and anger became sympathy, but had since morphed into supporting the troubled blonde. _Maybe I can show him that someone besides Daxter is on his side._ Keeping her distance and effectively alienating the poor teen wouldn’t solve anything.

Mind made up, green eyes looked downwards into the drink, before she lifted it again to her lips. And she paused, two pointed questions occupying her psyche.

_How does Jak keep that darkness at bay?_

_If he can overcome it, can I overcome_ my _fear?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on six already? Feels like I started this only yesterday…

It was like staring into the gauntlet’s maw – the ultimate test of bravery. Yet, in reality, the blue-haired adolescent merely stood before the Stadium entrance, still in a quandary about entering.

The bright lights, normally beautiful and inviting, almost strobed in her vision. Her breathing shallowed and she bent over, gripping her knees, fighting memories rising to the surface. She half-expected to collapse right there and then.

But something broke within, allowing her to push past the wall and regain control. Strength returned to her frame and she slowly straightened. One foot followed the other; at last, she finally entered the Stadium proper, aiming for the garage and avoiding the racing tracks.

Upon entering, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, bringing calm with it. At that moment, she realised just how much it had been missed.

It sounded pathetic to long for the scent of motor oil, metal and exhaust fumes, vibrant colours of the newly-painted J87s and smooth texture of steel chassis, but her heart desired being surrounded by such things.

So lost in her reverie was she that another figure entering the area went unnoticed. The latter paused and stared, frowning in puzzlement.

“What’re you doing here?” came Hagai’s clear, expressive voice, full of the confidence she had inwardly lacked a little the past few months.

Taryn almost jumped out of her skin and immediately swung around at high speed to face the noise. Upon seeing the girl, however, she relaxed and took several slow breaths to settle her suddenly pounding heart. There remained the horrible feeling Erol planned to appear and corner her, whispering sweet nothings laced with malice.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Keira explained, cocking her head to one side. “Who are you?”

“Oh, of course. I’m, uh, Taryn.” It emerged in a clumsy manner, but the taller female brushed that aside and offered her hand. Thankfully, it was accepted.

“I’m Keira – the resident mechanic.”

“I used to do that…fix up bikes, ride them a little…you know…”

“Nice. I mostly do mods, myself.” Obvious pride rang in Hagai’s words, although it was primary talent, so why not show off a bit? That was her thought process. And, much to her delight, Taryn seemed impressed, smiling at the various classes of vehicles strewn around the garage.

“I can see, just by looking, that you do good work,” the red-clad teen said, beginning to peer more closely at the inner workings of a chopped Air Racer. “ _Much_ better than me.” There was a titter, before she looked back towards the mechanical genius. _Wait…Keira. That sounds familiar._ “Oh, you’re _that_ Keira!”

“‘That’ Keira? How many Keiras do you know that work in the Stadium?”

“Okay, fine. I’ll give you that one.”

“So…how do you know me?” Hagai sounded apprehensive.

Taryn prepared to answer, but the conversation was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of none other than the bubbly Underground-agent-come-barmaid. Delayed on the way to the room, the latter heard the last part of the two blue-haired girls’ conversation, and decided to answer for her friend.

“Me and Taryn are thick as thieves. You can trust her with your life.”

“Hey,” the five foot ten teen beamed. “How are you?”

“Forget me – how are _you_?” Tess enquired.

“Better.”

“Good. I’m glad to see you here at last.”

“Me too.” Distracted by the talk and surroundings, Taryn almost forgot why she entered the Stadium in the first place, but now was reminded. Still, the sensation felt too raw; she required more time to readjust to the garage. In an effort to change topics, she turned to Hagai once more. “How long have you been working here?”

“A few months.” Box of tools in hand, the mechanic sauntered over to an unfinished J87 and knelt down to begin work. The others watched for a few minutes – the blonde fascinated by the opus itself; the blue-haired girl turning facts over in her mind. What started as the gauntlet, followed by reaching a state of calm nostalgia, had since turned into a potential friend.

With a soft breath, as she relaxed in their presence, the latter leant her back against a nearby workbench covered in blueprints and varying sizes and designs of spanners. “Anything I can help with?”

Keira’s head shot up, surprised by the offer, but a smile crawled across her mouth. “Sure. Thanks. Why don’t you get working on this Racer, while I get something else done?” _Something more important,_ she mentally added.

“Right.” Taryn nodded, trotting over to take the shorter adolescent’s place, and bending down to start building up the bodywork of the hoverbike.

Hagai grabbed an acetylene torch and dragged it with her behind the mysterious, drawn curtain. She was happy to have more time for the rebuilt Rift Rider; the sooner she had it up and running, the sooner there would be a way home.

* * *

 

_Thank the Precursors I hid!_

It surely had been a trick of the eyes, but the sixteen year old was sadly mistaken. Charging along the path, heading for the hideout, she glimpsed a flash of ruddy armour and dived behind a nearby crate. Krimzon Guards, at least a dozen in number and consisting of regulars and Elite, made their way through the Slums. They had come from the direction of the Underground headquarters.

What Taryn couldn’t decipher was what they were doing in the area. The initial thought to enter her mind was that Torn betrayed the cause…yet that didn’t seem plausible. But there wasn’t anything else coming to mind. He must have been desperate. She considered all the possibilities.

_What made you do it, Tattoos? Must have been something big._

As much as they were chalk and cheese, she never actually outright detested him (which she hoped was mutual) and considered him a well-meaning, intelligent leader figure behind the gruff exterior, prepared to rescue the city from both Baron and Metal Head.

The coast was now clear, allowing her to pop out of her hiding spot and down the pathway, avoiding prying eyes, and approached the hideout entrance. She needed to figure out what the Underground was left with, then a way to rescue her friends.

_Where do they usually take prisoners? The Fortress!_ All she had to do was rush over to the armoured building at the other end of the Slums, somehow break in (the simple part), fight or sneak her way upstairs, locate her allies, unlock their cell doors, escape, reach another safe house and finally lie low for the next _jillion years_.

“Easy,” she sarcastically muttered.

Before reaching her destination, she almost collided with two individuals hanging around the area. Her hand reflexively reached for the double-barrelled pistol attached to her back, until she realised they were the demolition duo. The boys appeared equally startled and relieved to run into her – now, of all times.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Jak enquired, eyebrows raised.

“ _Me_? I could ask you the same question!” Taryn almost snapped, well-aware of her stricken tenor. “Did you see what went on just now? Are they hunting you?”

Her over-concern for their welfare piqued the blonde’s curiosity. “No, they’re not after us right now. Not _us_ specifically.”

“We enter the stinkin’ old tomb, go through those crappy Precursor tests, and we’re ready to grab the stone, when the _Baron_ pops up outta nowhere and snatches it from right under our noses!” Daxter cried. “Then we struggle all the way back here, only to learn TW betrayed all of us!”

“Praxis threatened to kill Ashelin for spying,” Jak replied, somewhat defensively. “Torn was protecting her, so gave up the location of the Underground’s agents.”

Taryn’s gaze lowered, sadness gripping her heart. She understood the ex-Commander held a torch for the red-head. Then she looked back up, glancing between the pair’s faces. “Has Tess been captured, too?”

“Probably,” the blonde admitted. “They’ve all been shuttled to the Fortress, so we’re gonna storm it and get everyone back.”

“Damn right!” the Ottsel added.

“Can I help?” the blue-haired teen asked, feeling desperate to offer assistance in some way.

“Stay here. We’ll take care of it,” Jak said earnestly.

“You can count on us, Blueberry!” Daxter jeered.

“I…okay,” she reluctantly agreed, then added a deeply sincere, “Thank you.”

Upon hearing the inflection in her voice, the blonde briefly hesitated, before turning his back on her, and left with the orange rodent on his shoulder. Nevertheless, she caught the meaning of Jak’s behaviour, and fought the little smile forming on her lips.

Once they turned the corner, she continued to the door and entered the hideout at last.

Inside, there was no sign of forced entry or remaining guards, but it paid to be cautious. She whipped out her gun and held it at the ready, silencing her footsteps, as she advanced through the room. However, she relaxed at seeing a familiar face at the far end, stood and staring into the ashes sitting in the unlit furnace.

“Torn. You’re here,” she remarked, which, in hindsight, was an obvious, idiotic comment, but she couldn’t help stating her relief. After another second of listening for obvious traps, she replaced her pistol and casually approached him.

The brunette let out a burdened breath. “Perceptive. You got any more insightful facts, or are there more to come?”

Taryn knew he was annoyed at himself, not her, but she was hardly going to let him get away with talking _at_ her. “Easy, Tattoos. All I saw were guards just leaving. Then I bumped into Jak and Daxter. They told me what happened.”

Regardless, he persisted with the anger. “Did they also happen to tell you that I turned everyone in who put their lives in my hands? Who _trusted_ me?”

“Yes, they did. So cut. The. _Attitude_. And let’s get going with our next move. What’s the plan?”

He was grateful for her backtalk. It allowed him to focus on their way out of this mess. “I’m heading to the Power Station to have Vin synch up the Warp Gate there with the one in the Fortress.”

“I’ll go with you,” she decided. “I can back Vin up.”

“Good.” He nodded his agreement, grabbed his dual pistols from the circular table, and headed out, with the teen following close behind.

* * *

 

“You want me to activate the _what_?” Vin cried in alarm.

“It’s a simple request. Can you do it or _not_?” Torn growled, especially _not_ in the mood to deal with awkward people.

“If he can’t, I can,” Taryn mock-threatened over her shoulder, as she studied the console responsible for activating and deactivating the multitude of Warp Gates situated throughout Haven City.

Said electrician panicked at the possibility of being replaced, and yielded. “Okay, okay! I’ll do it! Even so, it’ll be difficult – that is, assuming the Warp helix is still synchronised across the city – and if Jak and Daxter even get _through_ the rest of the Fortress to reach the maximum security prisons-”

The former Commander stabbed a digit at the older male’s face. “I don’t care what it takes. Just do it, and do it quickly.”

Without another word, Vin zoomed over to stand at Taryn’s side, starting with the activation of the Power Station’s own Warp Gate. He then began directly linking the required pair. He turned away from the console for only a moment – the teen kept an eye on things for him – and stared directly at the brunette.

“It’ll take some time to synchronise. I might also need to bypass the security that’ll likely come down hard.” The electric head turned to his assistant. “Tell me when the alarm’s raised.”

“Got it.” Her optics never left the console; like him, she understood what sat before her and what was required for this to work. Torn was the odd one out; he had been a soldier, not a technician. “It’s holding strong at the moment…”

“The maximum security area is a double-edged sword,” the ex-guard piped up. “Its security is mostly man, not computer. It keeps the entire sector of the Fortress from being electronically hijacked. Good news is that you probably won’t have problems this end; bad news is that Jak and the loudmouth rat’ll need a miracle to get inside.”

“Whaddya know? You _do_ have some useful info in that big brain of yours,” Taryn teased; he scowled as predicted.

“He’s right,” Vin agreed. “Boy, I sure am lucky you were Commander.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the brunette said drily.

“Take it as he meant it,” the adolescent female sighed. When the console suddenly lit up like fairy lights, a grin spread across her countenance. “We have lift-off, Vin. They’re synched.”

“Great! Now, we wait for Jak.”

* * *

 

All three possessed the patience of the Buddha.

Although it felt like half a day, only just over an hour had passed, when there was activity from the console; subsequently, the Warp Gate shimmered with energy. Almost immediately, Vin was on his feet and monitoring the blinking lights, simultaneously telling Taryn to watch for new arrivals.

The centre of the teleporter shuddered, propelling a familiar blonde teen through first. He somehow managed to land with the grace of a cat or dancer, then shifted to his left, holding out his arm to catch the next one through – Tess. She landed a little more roughly against him, but it was soft, and was placed on her feet. Her blue eyes caught sight of her spiritual sister and she rushed over.

Both Green Sages came through next, complaining in stereo about their disdain of teleporting – something the demolition duo received daily during their past adventures. The Ottsel bounced atop the Shadow’s grassy afro, both grumbling about their landings, but the former hurried off and clambered back onto the relative comfort of Jak’s shoulder plate.

Taryn blew out a satisfied breath and gripped Tess’ hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before quickly dropping it. “You’re safe.”

The bubbly female returned a grateful grin. “Thanks to my little orange hero!”

“I think you’re forgetting someone…”

“Oh, of course! But you know Daxter likes to feel important. So, I don’t want to thank Jak too loudly.”

The red-clad adolescent snickered, before her optics flicked across the room to study the true hero. His usually upright posture slumped, obviously exhausted from his battle through the Fortress, and black marks covered his skin – as well as dark rings under his eyes. He ran a gloved hand across the top of his head, then straightened his slightly askew goggles. However, the light in his cerulean orbs showed he was glad to be back with his allies.

Taryn then took the time to study Samos and the Shadow. The pair’s appearance was near-identical, although the former was clearly older. It was puzzling; a vital piece of information missing. What was going on?

Jak caught the way she eyed the old men, and it occurred to him she was slowly working things out in her head. It didn’t take a genius to work out their age difference and appearance. Soon, she would discover what had happened to the blonde, Daxter, Keira and Samos – that the quartet came from the past and landed in the city. Jak had thought it was by accident, but things weren’t looking that way much anymore.

Then his line of sight caught hers, and he knew it was time to talk. Advancing towards her a tad cautiously, he stood by Taryn and Tess, waiting for them to finish their discussion before talking…but the blue-haired teen spoke first.

“Thanks for getting our friends out of there,” she remarked, then put an arm around the barmaid, hugging her close. “Especially _this_ troublemaker.”

The hero shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m just glad my little Sugarplum is safe and sound!” Daxter cheered, making the blonde female giggle, whilst Taryn rolled her eyes and gave a shake of the head.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t like the fuss, Bloo,” Tess retorted, prodding the sixteen year old in the arm.

“Hey!” The latter retreated from the offending finger. “I don’t need it.”

“But you _want_ it.”

“We’re not having this conversation…”

The teasing annoyed Taryn no end, but she couldn’t berate anyone for being in high spirits. A crisis had been averted, the mission a success. She just hoped this situation would never arise again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Finn belongs to me.
> 
> I didn’t plan to have him in the story this soon, but it’s the first appearance of my fan character, Finn, who will play a bigger role towards the end of Encounters.
> 
> No, he doesn’t look like the character from Adventure Time. Or Fable. XD

A cardboard head clattered to the floor, another eighty eight points added to the total score, already well past the bronze award and rapidly advancing towards silver.

Entering the course was meant to take her mind off recent events, but the more Metal Heads she decapitated, the emptier she felt…just like her gun’s ammunition, being uselessly frittered away, when it could shoot _real_ enemies out there that threatened the Underground’s forces.

The problem was only recent, beginning in the Stadium garage. For the umpteenth time, Taryn assisted the resident mechanic with repairing and upgrading the Air Racers. It was at that moment the latter spoke of her friends from another time – that was when the demolition duo’s names came up.

As suspected, Keira held a dislike for the Ottsel’s odd and desperate attempts at winning women’s affections (she turned him down), but her response to the subject of Jak referred to a long history between the two – which sounded mutual. However, she couldn’t yet adjust to his new, darkened outlook, and he appeared singularly motivated to destroy both Baron Praxis and the Hora Quan.

What Taryn struggled to comprehend was why this news affected _her_. She didn’t really know either that well, and, regardless of her growing attraction to him, there was barely a day they could sit and form a proper friendship (or even more). She had no idea if he liked her – again, she assumed he simply wished to push past his trauma and help the city. He didn’t have _time_ for love.

Another dozen cardboard figures disintegrated into dust. The teen fired at the final Metal Head’s chest and the alarm rang, indicating the end of the course, and she exited. Back within the main hall of the building, she approached the scoreboard and checked her score. The computer took a second to tally the points, then flashed the top five results.

_Silver? Not bad._ Still, the exercise showed that there was room for improvement. _I’m always second place, ‘though._ Above her entry, ‘TAR’, was ‘DAX’, likely the Ottsel’s idea of showboating his superb weapon skills. Why the blonde went along with it, she didn’t understand. She inwardly sighed, hanging her head, before shrugging it off and deciding to reload her pistol, leaning against a stack of ammunition crates to do so.

At the heavy stomp of boots and grating of metal armour, her head immediately lifted; to the untrained ear, it could be confused for a guard, but she knew better. There was only one man who made such sounds when he walked – Sig.

“Hey, Taryn,” he greeted.

“What brings a handsome man like you to a place like this?” she enquired, attempting some levity.

“Krew’s look’ for ya. He’s got a job, an’ asked-”

“ _Asked_? Ordered, more like.”

“Know whatcha mean. Anyway, head on over to _The Hip Hog_ an’ have a talk.”

“Alright.”

With nothing more to say on that subject, the Wastelander leant over and checked the high scores, seeing hers. “You got a lotta skill with that hardware.”

“Not enough, clearly,” she replied, tenor a little lifeless. The double-barrelled pistol finally reloaded and sights checked, she hung it in the holster on her back, then straightened up. He observed from the corner of his remaining viridian eye and pulled a strange expression, making her curious. “What?”

“What’s with the dark?” He waved a finger around her optics.

“A long day…” she carefully said.

“Huh. We’ve all had those, lately.”

“This is one of many.”

“I see. Maybe the job can wait.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll go and see how much that impatient bastard wants me to hurt myself for.”

As hard as she tried to remain cheerful, Taryn couldn’t help the grumpiness. Fortunately, although Sig was caring, he lacked the interfering aspect, instead giving a shrug that silently told her “eh, your choice”. She returned a grateful smile, glad he was the one talking to her right there and then, before they turned on their heels and headed back out of the Gun Course together.

* * *

 

“I’m cold, miserable and all alone…this is the best mission ever!” the sixteen year old grumbled, although kept her voice low, as she slogged along the rough ground, forced to keep an eye on her every step. After all, dangerous territory surrounded her – Krew simply _adored_ sending her to such locations. This particular mission was at the Construction Site. According to the floating gangster, a package sat in the foreman’s office, simply waiting for one of his lackeys to collect and deliver it to the bar.

Having not been in the area for almost a year, coupled with the constant building projects, meant she relied on a crude scribble on a napkin, and her prayers to the Precursors that she was going the right way.

The Construction Site happened to also be where Taryn first met the flirtatious, orange furball; she recalled it well. His coarse remarks, countered by her aiming a pistol in his face – several months later, they were good friends. It was socialising, the true Haven way.

As she ducked behind a bundle of steel supports chained together, ready to be collected by an overhead crane slowly swinging through the air, her feline optics spotted the first few Krimzon patrols scattered around the initial section. Their attention was divided between ensuring there were no unauthorised visitors and checking on the workers manoeuvring buggies and hauling crates, but there were many eyes, meaning she had to be quick and on the ball.

Seeing an opening, she quickly darted onward, locating more cover behind a parked vehicle. It would have been more useful to disguise herself as a worker or guard and move more freely, but Krew was delightfully absent-minded regarding such information. Yet it was too late, now, so Taryn kept on the move, careful to not resort to disabling guards with strangeholds; secrecy was key, although trouble was more her style.

She didn’t spot the foreman from her position – likely still in his office or further within the complex – and continued.

* * *

 

It had been almost a home run to her destination. Weirdly, as she reached it, she noticed the entire location to be deserted. That typically meant there would be an ambush, so she trod softly and kept all senses on high alert.

However, it appeared that the heavy guard surrounding the workers and parts deemed important of the site didn’t apply here, so she more leisurely approached the office and huddled near the entrance, gun drawn. Sudden movement and noise captured her attention. Peering through the window, she saw someone inside…but they weren’t in guard or worker clothing. A scowl crossed her brow and she crawled closer for a better look.

The first thing she noticed was blonde hair.

_Could it be-?_ she wondered, unable to tell from seeing the man’s back, although he seemed about the right height from her position. With a cautious approach, still unsure, she reached for the door and realised it was unlocked and not fully closed, so silently pushed it ajar and entered the room. Standing, she aimed her handgun at the back of his head, before tapping him on the shoulder.

He revolved at high speed, whipping out his own pistol and imitating her stance. Yet, upon realising her identity, he lowered his weapon and flashed a soft smile. “Sorry. Thought you were someone else.”

Taryn let out a shaky breath. _It’s not him._ The one before her was pale-skinned, brown-eyed, with dark blonde locks styled in collar-length spikes and a long face. He appeared at least a couple of years older and taller than Jak, too.

“Who are you?” she barked, caught off-guard and feeling a tad indignant.

“Name’s Finn. I’m here to help,” he elucidated. At her puzzled frown, he continued. “I was sent by Torn. He said you’d need some back-up, since Krew was _kind_ enough to tell you everything you needed to know about the mission.” He leant on one hip and gave her a little look up and down. “So, that makes you Taryn.”

“Yes…” she said slowly, putting two and two together. _Tess must have spied on the conversation and got the info to Tattoos._ Then her optics caught the wrapped package in his gloved hand – none other than the very one she was sent to retrieve.

_What the Hell?_ She went to grab the package, but he raised his arm, keeping out of reach.

“Don’t be so grabby!” he chuckled, causing her to pause and frown – something that only made him laugh harder. He waved it at her as a taunt.

_He’s asking to get shot._ “I need to get that back to Krew, so I can get paid.”

Finn snorted. “The Shadow needs it more. Ergo, I win.”

“Win, my butt!” she cried, jumping up to reach and almost falling against him in the process. “If you give it to me, I’ll hand it back later.”

“No can do.” It was clear he wouldn’t give in. Hurriedly checking his ammunition, he studied their surroundings, before returning his gaze to her. “Let’s go.”

Temporarily relinquishing the package, she reluctantly nodded her agreement, and the pair slinked out of the office, aiming to make it back to the exit gate without complications. Two sets of eyes felt more secure than one, but it also meant the pair would have to be able to keep and work together, and not blow their cover. It was something of a double-edged sword.

Unbeknownst to either, a pair of patrolmen spotted Finn and Taryn, immediately advancing upon the latter. The blonde spun around first, aiming his silenced pistol, then fired, catching one in the knee. The guard fell, mid-run. Finn charged and wrestled the rifle from them, followed by an uppercut with the butt, knocking them out. The second KG was already charging for the blue-haired girl; as they swung their arm, she reflexively raised her arm to parry, realising too late that he wielded a knife. As she attempted to move at the last moment, the razor-sharp blade cut into her hand, causing a rather deep wound.

Finn grabbed the guard from behind and hooked an arm under their chin, cutting of the air supply. The latter fainted and softly dropped to the ground. Taryn nodded her thanks, too out of breath to speak, before he took her hand and pulled her into a makeshift alley, so he could address her wound.

Pausing, he pulled out a medkit from his utility belt and took her hand in his own, then pressed a gauze to the cut, before wrapping it with a bandage. She had the urge to fidget and snatch her hand away, but it was vital that he treated it, so she forced herself to remain still.

“You’re lucky,” he remarked.

“ _Lucky_? How so?” she sarcastically asked.

“I mean…” He sounded a tad flustered, reiterating. “…I’m just glad it was your hand and not your head.”

Those words shouldn’t have annoyed, but something about his concern bothered her. Even ‘though he sensed her mood, it didn’t stop him from laughing again. With a roll of the eyes, she surrendered – the man was simply a giant ray of sunshine, making it impossible to remain grumpy.

Tired of focusing on that, she chose to change the subject. “I’ll flip you for the package.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grinned. “You’d use a double-sided coin.”

“Damn it.”

“Haha! Just give up. It’s mine.”

“Fine. It’s yours…” _For now._

Finn was surprisingly gentle, yet swift and skilled at tending to the wound, making Taryn wonder if he had a medical background; at the very least, he had obviously done it before, likely for the other Underground agents.

_Could come in useful,_ she thought.

After what felt like an age, he released her hand and darted to the alley opening. It wouldn’t take long for the unconscious KG to awaken or be found by others.

“Looks clear so far,” he remarked, and slipped out of the space, pistol in hand, removing the suppressor, as he jogged along. She ran after him, easily keeping up.

An alarm sounded, startling them, and multiple sounds of armoured feet headed in their direction. The pair sped up, trying to get through the final stretch of their way out. Optimistic, they could get through, without having to fire any more shots. Taryn didn’t feel very capable to fire, having to rely on her left hand; the right currently throbbed beneath the bandage. That meant relying on Finn’s expertise, which appeared to be on top form. He glanced behind him once; satisfied that she was keeping up with him, he looked dead ahead from then on.

“There they are!”

“Shoot ‘em!”

Red shots flew past the escaping duo, weaving erratically around the path. As soon as he came to the first guard ahead, the blonde raised his pistol and let off a four rounds – half hit the enemy, the latter crumpling to the ground. Unfortunately, as soon as one died, two more took their place. The sixteen year old had no choice but to fire, too, although her aim was fairly inaccurate, only managing to cripple a KG’s knee. At least the other shots convinced another enemy to take cover. Finn darted over and pulled back his arm, slamming an armour-plated glove into the guard’s face, then looked over his shoulder to ensure his comrade wasn’t hurt. She responded with a thumbs-up, reloading her handgun. He waited until she arrived at his side, before he continued running.

The exit was dead ahead. Taryn reached the metal gate first and impatiently waited for the large gear to turn and release the door lock. Her blonde friend turned to face the site and fired pot-shots at the continuing onslaught of red soldiers. The pair dodged shots, until the gate finally parted and allowed them access.

“Don’t let them escape!” an elite guard, in yellow armour, commanded.

The Underground agents rushed through, entering a room filled with KG barrels stacked up to the ceiling and various electronic consoles against the other two walls; against the fourth was a stairwell going down. They kept going, descending the flight and slipping out of a smaller, second door, and back into the Industrial sector.

Instead of moving away, Taryn paused and tugged a silver contraption, shaped like a hockey puck, from her trouser pocket. Activating it, she then fixed it to the door’s electronic lock, and pushed the button in the ‘puck’s’ centre, then stepped back; Finn did the same. After five seconds, it exploded, soldering the door’s join.

“It’ll keep them away, long enough for us to escape,” she explained.

“Nice,” he approved. Job done, he approached a distinctive, violet KG zoomer parked up the pavement and mounted it. “Need a ride?”

She stared at him in disbelief (although very impressed with his choice of transport) and didn’t answer his question. “Where’d you get _that_?”

“I ‘borrowed’ it,” he said proudly, flashing a beaming smile, then leant back and gazed at her expression. “Anyway…you didn’t answer my question.”

In all honestly, she _wanted_ to climb on the back, enjoy the experience of speeding back to the bar, but the more mature part of her mind resisted. “I’ll walk. Better to have Krew not trying to kill you, too.”

Finn huffed. “Torn won’t be happy I’m doing this…” He picked up the package from his belt, then tossed it to Taryn, who just about managed to catch it with her good hand.

With a startled expression, she said, “Careful; it might be fragile.”

“It doesn’t say ‘fragile’ on it,” he countered.

“Yeah, because the KG is _so_ concerned with labelling things correctly.” She rolled her eyes at him. “But…thanks.”

“Just promise to give it back.”

“Right.”

He then started up the engine, exchanging farewells, before he sped off towards the Slums, whilst she watched, struggling to comprehend him. Excluding a few, obvious exceptions, the Underground agents were sullen, focused types – in other words, workaholics. By contrast, Finn was so _cheerful_. His happiness was infectious…

_But maybe he’s_ too _happy,_ she wondered, then turned about and ambled back towards _The Hip Hog_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out longer than expected, but it just took on a life of its own. By the way, Finn’s gun is a SOCOM and a couple of his moves are based on Solid Snake – I read the MGS1 novel recently.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter seven was getting long, so I chopped it into two – which gave me an excuse to add more of the Kid! <3 Can’t get enough of the adorable little squirt!

To find the local alcoholics at _The Hip Hog_ comforting was surely a sign of lunacy. At least, that was how Taryn felt about her return, after what could only be described as an escapade at the Construction Site. Upon entry, her green optics perused the place for some familiar faces, spotting Krew’s demolitions trio in one of the back booths. It had been some time since seeing or speaking with Mog and Grim – although the same couldn’t be said for Jinx.

Problematic blondes seemed destined to remain part of her life. _I’ve had enough for one day._ Nevertheless, she approached. Upon reaching the far end of the saloon, she waved and greeted each man in turn.

The cigar smoker raised his head and smiled broadly, voice a tad distorted by the item in his mouth. “Well, ain’tcha a sight fer sore eyes, Sweetheart? Whatcha doin’ here?”

She tensed at the affectionate nickname. “Thought I’d pay you all a visit; see how you are…although I’m already regretting it.”

Whilst Jinx snickered, whilst Mog silently patted the empty space at his right. “Come sit.”

Unable to turn down the offer, she complied. The good news was that it wouldn’t force her into a corner with the blonde. That being said, as soon as she settled her hands on the table top, the lumbering male stared and pointed a large finger at the bandage. “How’d that happen?”

“War wound. I was battling in the Wasteland in hand-to-hand combat with the Metal Head leader,” Taryn retorted, unwilling to explain her exploits with Finn. After a moment, she relented and offered a shrug of the shoulders. “A knife got under my guard.”

Jinx studied the injury, before his lips split into an all-knowing smirk. From experiencing plenty of knife fights that forced him to dress his own wounds, he understood that the angle meant someone would have bandaged it for her. “How’d ya do it so neatly?”

Having been rumbled, she glowered, although chose the truthful route. “I didn’t.”

“You weren’t _alone_?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Who was the lucky guy?” Grim enquired. He always found the back-and-forth cabaret between those two extremely entertaining.

“I don’t know. I’ve never met him before,” came her simple response.

“We need a name,” Mog jeered.

_I don’t believe it._ All three men had chosen to gang up on her. _Never should have sat down._ Still, she decided to reveal the identity of her co-conspirator. “His name’s Finn.”

Jinx’s appeared alarmed. “It was _Finn_?”

Taryn was knocked off-balance by such a reaction. “You know him?”

“Underground agent. Torn’s lackey…you know. He’s a nice guy, on the level an’ a good shot. Saved my ass a couple times.”

“Never thought I’d hear you talk nicely about anyone. You must really like him. Jak will be so disappointed.”

As ever, the blonde merely chortled. “That reminds me…we’re goin’ on a mission in the Sewers.”

“Me and Mog are heading down with him. Krew wants us all on it,” Grim added, downing what remained of his glass of scotch.

“Just be _careful_ this time,” she warned – the cigar smoker, in particular. “You know what’s down there.”

“Yer very sweet, but don’t you worry that pretty little behind o’ yours,” Jinx retorted, earning a disapproving look from the blue-haired teen. “We got that rat an’ Rapunzel escortin’ us.”

Her countenance morphed into curiosity, before her mind focused on the newest imaginative moniker for Jak. “ _Rapunzel_ …” she slowly repeated with disbelief. Any attempts to block the images of said hero with long, flowing hair and the Ottsel clambering up its length failed; in fact, it merely made them more vibrant.

“You’re totally seein’ it.”

“I’m visualising you getting shot in the ass. I might persuade _Rapunzel_ to cap you.”

“I don’t think he needs persuading,” Mog said.

“Bite me,” Jinx shot back.

“Settle down, girls,” Grim muttered. “You don’t need help getting your asses kicked _before_ we even head down there.”

Taryn let out a laugh. She had to admit she liked him, even given his past in the Krimzon Guard. According to what she heard, he worked under Torn, and left when Erol took the mantle of Commander. The moustached male retained pieces of his old armour, but none of the animosity that most guards possessed. It certainly made things easier for her; the last thing she needed was any more trouble with those soldiers…

The sudden rush of _that_ memory made her shudder.

Thankfully, a distraction came in the form of Grim swigging the last of his drink in one and roughly setting the empty glass onto the table. “Speaking of heading down…it’s almost show time.” Rising to his feet, he looked towards his cohorts, who nodded their agreement and followed suit. Taryn slipped out of the booth to give the moustached male room, before settling back into her seat. As Mog waved his goodbye, Jinx gave a cheeky wink that forced her to roll her eyes; he laughed in response, having succeeded in irking her yet again.

“Later!” the blonde called, turning away and ambling towards the exit.

“Later!” she parroted, in a tenor more optimistic than she felt. _I hope._

The blue-haired teen took a deep breath and leant back, letting the events of the day fade away. But the saloon seemed isolated, without her friends, even as the drunkards jeered and glasses clinked, and she quickly decided on finding somewhere else to linger, at least for a short time.

But where to go? The Underground hideout didn’t seem a good idea, especially after learning Finn was a member of the resistance. Seeing him once felt like an ordeal, so twice in one day…she inwardly groaned. The alternative was the Power Station. Putting up with Vin’s babble would be very welcome, and there was even the chance that Kor and the Kid would be there, too.

* * *

 

The Power Station remained as it ever was. Upon entering, Taryn’s eyes settled upon the best sight she could have hoped for – the Kid and his Crocadog. Her lips broke into a wide beam and, after greeting Vin and Kor (the latter of which offered an accepting nod, which she returned), she approached the toddler and his funny, green puppy.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite boy and his pooch,” she remarked. The beast barked a greeting, although still refused to let her ruffle its tuft of brown fringe. With a sigh and shrug, she knelt down before the small boy. “You two doing okay?”

The Kid gave a hesitant nod. _That’s not good._ Settling her behind down onto the floor and crossing her legs, she tilted her head at him. “What would make you feel better?”

His brow furrowed, in deep thought for a moment, then trotted over to the far end of the room, picking up a large book and struggling back towards her with the item in his arms. He then awkwardly stretched it towards her, struggling with the hardback’s weight.

Taryn quickly took it from him, minding her injured hand, and stared at the cover. “ _Green Eggs And Ham_? You want me to read _this_?” But she found herself incapable of refusing his adorable smile, and relented with an encouraging pat of her lap. He watched, uncertain, with a finger to his lip.

“It’s so you can see properly,” she assured him. “Plus, you’ll be more comfortable.”

The Kid saw no fault in that logic, so agreed and hopped onto her lap, before insisting on opening the book himself. He immediately turned to the first page – on which was drawn a strange, furry creature, holding up its red hat in one hand and a sign in the other, the latter of which with “I am Sam” scrawled across it. She read the phrase aloud. For some reason, said creature stood on a dog, running along a white path.

_What in Precursors’ name am I reading?_ she wondered, eyes widening, although could instantly see its appeal. She let the boy turn to the following page, at which point they simultaneously chuckled at the bizarre images of the same characters running past a grumpy figure slumped in an armchair and reading a newspaper. The pair rushing around appeared to annoy him.

Moving on with the story and finding the first pieces of dialogue, Taryn suddenly felt daunted. She had never tried reading to a child before (let alone anyone), so swallowed a tad nervously and hoped to do a good job of entertaining the Kid.

“ _That Sam-I-am! That Sam-I-am! I do not like that Sam-I-am!_ ”

Luckily, said boy became very attentive, focusing on the pictures as she read, and he imitated her tracing the words with a finger. A frown of concentration indicated his attempt to work out the writing.

“ _Do you like green eggs and ham?_ ” she continued, receiving his indignant shake of the head, although he grinned up at her. “Oh, you’re more of a soup fan, aren’t you?”

He nodded, then returned his focus to the book. From nearby, the Crocadog relaxed at the sound of Taryn’s voice and nudged against her leg as it laid down, one of its ears pricked up and the other flattened against the floor. Everyone once in a while, it would offer a _ruff_ at various events in the story.

At the other end of the room, Vin was far too distracted to observe the trio, concerted with a more pressing matter. “You’re right. The Weapon’s Factory’s spitting out more of those Blast Bots every day! And they’re sweeping the city for other Underground safehouses! They already know the location of the main hideout-”

“No thanks to Torn,” Kor grumbled the interruption.

The foreman didn’t want to recall that piece of information. “Point is, you _really_ need to watch yourself out there!”

“Hmmf.” The old man appeared unfazed. As long as Jak was on hand to assist the resistance forces, everything would proceed as smoothly as ever. The former cast a glance in the Kid’s direction and studied the adolescent girl with great intrigue, taking note of how much the child enjoyed being in her presence – and vice versa. “Vin…I believe it would be wise to keep the boy here, where it is safe.”

“ _Relatively_ safe! Who knows when the Commander might decide I’m due for another check-up. If they find the Kid here-”

“Trust me. I think Erol has his mind on bigger problems than inspections.”

“Well, I…all I can do right now is track the Blast Bots’ movements, so I can _at least_ let you know where they are.”

“You know we always appreciate your efforts. Try not to worry so much, my friend,” Kor replied, with a smirk, patting the younger man on the shoulder. “It will be the death of you.”

Vin felt a surge of relief upon hearing those words, a deep breath leaving his lungs and allowing his mind to focus on more important tasks – such as maintaining the shield wall. The latest drop in power was deeply disconcerting.

Unfortunately, Taryn and the Kid were positioned precisely where the scatter-brained foreman needed to work. With the latter’s frown, she nodded and carefully closed the bizarre children’s book, minding her wounded hand once more, and placed the book to one side, so she could grasp the green-haired boy under the arms and set him back onto his feet in front of her. The sudden throbbing of her hand forced a hiss from her throat, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice.

As she rose to her feet, collected the novel and sauntered down the room to a different space, said child followed, pausing at her side, as she stretched and massaged the cramp from her legs.

The Crocadog was more adverse to persuasion, only obliged to join the pair when the Kid clapped his hands to call it over. The beast settled down next to its owner, who offered it a ruffle of the fringe. It happily whined in reply and nuzzled into the pugy hand.

Taryn set the book down onto the floor, so the boy could easily get to it, and was suddenly startled by the touch of something warm against her injury. She flinched, immediately gazing downwards – and observed the most anxious expression.

The Kid refused to let go of her hand, even when she attempted to pull away, in case he inadvertently hurt her, but it appeared the opposite was true. Gradually, that dull ache from the still-fresh injury lessened. Her brow furrowed, unable to work out what was happening. _Something about his touch-?_ But that didn’t make sense. She watched his eyes, which were now so intensely focused on her hand, before lowering her gaze.

That was when she saw it – the softest of green glows emanating from his palm. It brought bedtime stories to mind, myths she heard back in the orphanage…and that was all they were supposed to be. But seeing it with her very own eyes made this all very real.

The young child before her was a channeller. Very young and barely able to heal a tiny cut, but one nonetheless. Still, it was fascinating to think that he was even capable enough to soothe her pain like this. Following what she had learnt from the Shadow, that meant the Kid was exceptional.

Taryn wondered if the Underground leader knew about this, and she felt the need to find out. With such power flowing through the boy’s veins, it was no wonder the Baron wanted him so badly. A protective urge came over her and she knelt down to the toddler’s level, giving him another of her gentle smiles. He looked up, distracted, and finally loosened his grip. She studied his eyes for a moment, seeing flecks of emerald within the blue, then spoke.

“You’re amazing…” she murmured. His countenance flushed and he averted his gaze, awkwardly shifting his body. With a chuckle, she leant back, opening her arms wide. He hesitated, as always, before trotting forward and allowing her to embrace him. She then lowered her head and said softly into his ear, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to just make up a story for Taryn to read to the Kid, until melody1987 suggested Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs And Ham. Can you image what that would look like in Precursor script? Preeeetty…
> 
> And that last line of Kor’s… D8


End file.
